


Royal Blue

by lilacSkye



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Blood and Gore, Drama Prince Vegeta, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Suggestive Themes, don't be scared of the creepy tags it's just veggie being dramatic, it's actually silly and fluffy, this is bad as bad can be I'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 19:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacSkye/pseuds/lilacSkye
Summary: Vegeta doesn't like to lose, no matter what battle there is to fight. Bulma, naturally, loves it.





	Royal Blue

**Author's Note:**

> My first work in this fandom, about one of my oldest OTPs... and it's this crappy thing. Lmao this is so bad, what am I even doing with my life

He was alone.

The battlefield was bare and quiet, broken only by the muffled, buzzing sound of death as it settled like a vulture on a corpse. The broken, still bodies of Vegeta’s soldiers littered the field, crumpled and forgotten like trash carelessly thrown away once it had served its purpose.

So that was how he was going to kick the bucket, huh?

Vegeta felt his mouth go dry as his lips pulled up in a feral snarl and his fists clenched tight at his side.

No, he was a Saiyan, a warrior down to the bone. Pride flowed through his blood vessels and violence made his heart beat to the rhythm of the drums of war. As a Saiyan, there was no place in his soul for cowardice. He had witnessed that Kakarot pull miracles out of nowhere out of sheer determination. If that buffoon could do it, surely the crown prince of Vegetasei could as well.

On the other side of the field, the enemy forces stood, their pristine white robes unmarred by the carnage splattered at their feet, carnage they themselves had sown and reaped among Vegeta’s troops.

And in the middle, the most majestic and dreadful of them all, their general. The vile creature, so little and harmless at first sight and yet so wondrously deadly, smiled at him with the arrogance of who knew they had victory in their hand.

“Giving up yet, _Prince_ Vegeta?”

The mocking emphasis that sing-song voice put on his royal title made his blood boil; a crimson veil descended upon him as energy he had long thought depleted rushed up and set every cell on fire.

“ _Never_.”

And then he charged. To hell with strategies, to hell with cunning schemes and plottings, the enemy had proven themselves to be superior to him with their astute baits and traps that managed to take out Vegeta’s whole squad. There was nothing left for him to summon forth his proud heritage and use it to at least take the enemy general down with him in a last explosion, a burst of power to engulf them both and scatter their dust across the galaxy.

A supernova.

The foul, pale enemy simply smirked and scoffed coldly. The white soldiers moved as to put themselves on his path, but they retreated at a gesture of the alien’s pale, thin wrist, wrist that looked so delicate and fragile, but could so effectively cut lives down with the flick of a finger.

In his frenzied state, Vegeta barely paid that any attention. If their leader was so haughty and confident in their abilities enough to offer Vegeta an incredible victory on a silver plate, he was going to take the chance. He called forth all of his energies and sped up, his unmoving target coming closer and closer, until he could see his own reflection mirrored in those cerulean eyes as he raised his bloodied fist, ready to take their head in a single blow-

And then they were gone. Vegeta’s flaming knuckles pierced through a white-clad body, the sound of bones splintering and flesh caving in like music to his ears, but the impassible face of the now dead man standing in front of him was wrong. Horror-struck, he looked around.

Several yards away, surrounded by the white soldiers, the loathsome creature stood, with a confident smirk pulling up at their rosy lips.

It had been planned, from the very beginning, just to toy with the defeated and now thoroughly burned out Saiyan a little more. Bile rose in Vegeta’s throat as his knees finally buckled and he toppled face first to the ground, too exhausted to even think to stand up again.

Steps approached, and a hand fisted on his hair, pulling his head hard and straightening him up so he was now kneeling, bloody and dirty, in front of the unblemished figure of the enemy king, their majestic crown shining white under the unforgiving sun. Their haughty smirk never leaving their face, the small alien leaned down, a delicate hand cradling his bruised cheek with faux care.

“I believe this is checkmate, my Prince.” they purred in his ear. “Will you surrender to me?”

Vegeta spat. The flirty, almost coquettish attitude fell away and the alien straightened up.

“Fine, you leave me no choice.” they turned away to address the soldiers crowded around them. “Do it.”

And one soldier in particular, the most formidable of all, a woman whose slender arms betrayed an unmatched strength Vegeta had so dismayingly underestimated, stepped out of the crowd, a glimmering sword held high above her crowned head.

He held her gaze proudly, black clashing against blue in a last duel to the death, both strong and proud and unwilling to give up until the very end.

A flash, and then the unmistakable, squelchy sound of blood being splattered, of a severed head rolling on the ground.

There was a poignant pause.

“Aaaand, that makes it three times today I kicked your ass. Had enough for today yet?” Bulma chirped happily as she caught the fallen Black King before it could roll of the chessboard and shatter to the ground. At the other side of the coffee table, Vegeta scowled murderously at nothing and crossed his arms, the very picture of offended pride. As always, it made Bulma feel the irresistible impulse to laugh. Vegeta, almighty prince of a warrior race who had recently trained himself past the mortal boundaries of his body and ascended to a godly form, was a sore loser alright when it came down to chess.

He nodded curtly, still sulky from the third defeat in a row and staring out of the window of their bedroom, out into the night sky. Bulma grinned, satisfied of the result, and hurried to put the board and pieces back in their place before pressing her lips against Vegeta’s still turned cheek in the quickest smooch she could pull off.

He squawked indignantly, his face promptly flushed red, as though he didn’t have all the time in this universe to take notice of her and dodge her in whichever way he pleased.

“Oh come on, stop brooding. You have a good grasp of the game, you just need a bit of practice,” she soothed him as she rounded the table and climbed on his lap, nuzzling his cheek with her nose, relishing in the heady, musky scent of sweat and shampoo and power his skin radiated. Even after so many years, it never failed to make her mouth water with desire. “Tell you what, I’ll make you a nice program to play against. What do you say?”

Vegeta let out a noncommittal sound, not so keen to accept her help to get him on her own level, ever the prideful bastard.

Gods, she loved that attitude of his.

She grinned and her hands trailed up his chest, her nails tracing the contours of his sculpted pectorals and collarbone, and then moved to his shoulders, strong and broad despite his fairly short height.

It was the result of his neverending quest for power, for strength to use to protect instead of to kill. Bulma would be lying if she claimed it didn’t make her heart flutter and soar with pride. Pride that this resourceful man had managed to pull himself out of the black hole that sucked in his fellows, and that it had been for her, for their family.

A strong hand wrapped around her own, holding it with careful and yet firm gentleness to prevent it from going down. Looking up, she saw he was wearing a wicked grin, as though he knew exactly what she was thinking about.

He probably did. Bulma had never kept her thoughts secret from him.

“Aren’t you quite eager, woman?”

Vegeta was met with a heated gaze that put stars such as Sirius to shame and made them feel like a ball of chill breeze. His heart stopped and he had to summon all his self control as she licked her lips slowly, so damningly slowly, the glistening tip of her tongue peeking out obscenely from her parted lips, a tantalizing invitation.

“Quite, yes. I can’t wait to play with my new prince.”

The fire burning in her eyes was scorching his soul, setting his blood ablaze. Oh the things they could have done together, is she had been born Saiyan, with eyes and hair as dark as the void of space itself, as the crowned queen of planet Vegeta; with her brilliant, unmatched brain and strategic intellect, and his own strength, there would have been nothing able to stop them from conquering the whole universe. Even Frieza would have stood no chance.

He tried to picture her in traditional royal red and blue robes wrapped and clinging tightly to her body, covering her and yet exposing her beauty for the unworthy eyes of their underlings to see. He tried to picture her strutting proudly and confidently through the maze of hallways of the royal palace, the most beautiful incarnation of death and grace.

Together, they would have been unstoppable.

No. Together, they _were_ unstoppable.

“Oh?” he smirked, an eyebrow raised skeptically as his heart sped up, as his breath started getting more labored, as though he had just come out of a grueling training session. In past times, he would have felt aggravated and frustrated that this infuriating woman could still have such a devastating effect on him, that she could still bring him to the verge of exhaustion and death with the softest touch, like a queen held her servant’s life in her hand. Nowadays, he had simply accepted it, and welcomed it. He leaned close, the tips of their noses brushing against each other. He felt her breath hitch, and a sharp, sweet scent wafted from her increasingly hotter form as she subconsciously grinded ever so slightly against him. “Do you think you have what it takes to tame me into submission, oh almighty galactic queen?”

She grinned broadly, a crescent moon of pearly whites that shone brighter than stars, and wrapped her arms around his neck before pressing her lips against his and he instantly melted in the scorching touch, obediently opened up and granted his queen access when she so sweetly requested it. Her tongue poked his own, roamed through his mouth like it owned it, her teeth clamped on his lower lip and sucked, so hard she would have surely drawn blood if Vegeta had been a regular human being.

His heart spiked up, lust glazing his senses, tuning out everything else apart of the blue star of a woman straddling his hips.

“Yeah, I think I do. Wanna see?”

She glanced to the side, where their king-sized bed was sitting, tidy and waiting eagerly to be used. All the gods knew how much use that bed had been put through by the two of them, and not all of them were that resting. He smirked, the heat in his body pooling at his groin, impatient to see his queen try every dirty trick in the book to hold him down, only to end up thrown off and pinned under him in a coup-d’etat, their roles reversed.

“Show me what you got, Her Majesty.”

**Author's Note:**

> And then they screw each other's brains out because it's Bulma and Vegeta, of course they're gonna fuck.


End file.
